An Elevated State of Mind
by StarliteAngel
Summary: A mysterious friend with a wild lifestyle gives Erik something to ease his pain, and things finally go the Phantom's way. ErikChristine development.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Just the one version of Erik that gets elevated. ;) If you're offended, happy, or something else entirely, feel free to e-mail me at Thanks!

Chapter 1 : An Elevared State of Mind Courtesy Mercutio

"Wow, this really is some magical plant..." A small-framed man drawled in a British accent. He blew out a puff of smoke, and his mind wandered.

Anything and everything. His mind was capable, at that moment, of remembering and forgetting memories and new ideas at light speed. He thought, suddenly, about Erik. That unfortunate man with a beautiful soul. It had been some time ago, but the man remembered one very eventful trip to the Opera Populaire while he was in Paris. He was actually in Paris again.

"Funny that, I'm in Paris," he said aloud. Everyone around him started laughing, and continued doing so for about five more minutes that could have easily been eternity to their minds. But, forever ended, and the glass and matches were passed around once more.

Hmm, Erik could use some of this stuff. He's so miserable and this would surely ease the pain.

"Wow, I bet he can write some off-the-wall music in this state of mind."

One of the other guys looked over and shook his head with a big smile on his pearly whites. "What are you talking about tonight?"

"Oh, I've been... I have this friend that I would like to make a purchase for."

"Oh, a friend? If it's for you, you can just say so."

"No, it's for a very sad friend, friend."

"He said... friend friend," said one of the guys in the circle. Everyone began laughing again.

"Hello, ah, Madame Giry?"

Mdme. Giry looked to the skinny tall man with a curious expression as she turned around. "Yes?"

"I..." The man walked over to her and handed her a black velvet box, which was about a foot deep that was tied with red silk ribbon. "...have a gift for someone we both know."

"And who might that be?"

"The trap door lover."

"Oh, yes, I'll be sure he gets this. What's your name, sir?"

"Mercutio. Good day." He smiled and turned around, walking out of the opera.

"Well, what a strange and happy man that was." Mdme. Giry then delivered her package via a dumb waiter in her room at the Opera Populaire. Erik devised this little invention so that he might send letters and such to his above-ground friend and confidant. Occasionally a box of chocolates would find its way up the lines, much to Mdme. Giry's secret delight. It seemed today, however, that she was the one sending the gift today.

Erik stared at the ivory keys blankly, as if he were in meditation. A soft thud was heard from somewhere behind him. After two minutes of continuous staring at his piano in the candlelit darkness, he rose to investigate the mysterious noise.

Erik tilted his head as he noticed the black gift box on the dumb waiter's tray. He lifted the note tucked under the red ribbon and read it aloud.

"_Good morning, dear Erik. A friend of yours, he called himself Mercutio, gave me this to give to you. I have no idea what it is, but I hope it's pleasant for you. Meg has been gossiping about you lately, as she always does unfortunately, so I need to tell you something. You, Erik, are being accused of stealing little Michelle Leon's... powder puff. You should be ashamed, of course. Powder puffs are hard to replace these days._

_Your friend,  
Mdme. Giry_"

Erik smiled for the first time in three days, and he was surprised at the tension it released. Erik, stealer of powder puffs and hair ribbons. The ballet girls always amused him with their stories. Christine was different, though. She was the only one that did not believe in the Phantom of the Opera. She had the Angel of Music to look to for all of her supernatural needs.

Erik shook his head seriously, feeling forever guilty for deceiving Christine. It was just the only way he could be with her... but he must end the charade soon. Tonight, perhaps, after her performance of Hannibal. Yes, that would be a good time.

"But, for now, what is this gift?"

Erik untied the silk ribbon and lifted the lid from the box. The contents included a large velvet satchel that took up most of the box's space, an intricate glass pipe, an equally intricate ash tray, and several books of matches from several local bars. Not that Erik had ever been to a bar, but he at least knew what the matchbooks looked like. Also, as the bottom, there was a page long note.

"I seem to be very popular today. Two people have knowingly acknowledged my existence. A new high record. Hm, so this strange gift is from Mercutio."

Erik read the note to himself, remembering the man fondly.

_"Hey Erik,_

_I haven't been back to Paris for about a year now, but here I am again. This city's just right for an English man. The lady's like the accent, you know. You could be British, too, if you tried hard enough."_

Erik laughed softly.

_"Even though you're a- whatever it is that you are, that's certainly not British, you're a good man. For your goodness, I give unto you a very magical gift. Here are some helpful instructions and guidelines:_

_I.) Take the plant out of the very large satchel and tear it, throwing away the stems, and setting the seeds to the side. I'll tell you what to do with the seeds later._

_2.) After you have torn a good bit of the plant apart, stuff however much will fit into the bowl of the glass I sent you. It's a beauty, isn't it? Over time, the glass will change colors from resin, heat, etc., so it only grows in beauty._

_3.) Light the match and light the plant in the bowl as you inhale at the other end of the pipe._

_4.) Now, the most important part. Hold the smoke in for as long as you can, and then slowly exhale. Now, Erik, I know you have never smoked anything, so you will cough a good bit. Keep something, preferably water, close by. Also, smoking hurts your throat, but I'm not really worried about your voice. You do so much vocal exercise that you'll keep your lung capacity high enough. But, as always, use your own discretion._

_5.) Finally, Erik, enjoy. You will feel elevated, you will feel like you're floating, you will, mark my word, feel happy. Also, it helps a man's creativity. You might be slow to execute certain things, but don't worry, it's all perfectly normal._

_You're a good man, Erik, enjoy. Too bad you weren't born British- then you would have been a saint._

_Mercutio."_

Erik tilted his head. "Elevated? Floating? Happy? He's absurd. I suppose everything deserves a try..." He said as he looked at the satchel.

Christine's heart beat wildly against her chest as she sat down in her chair. Raoul entered her dressing room with flowers and a charming smile. They sang about child hood memories and Raoul tried to set a date with her, and then charmingly dashed out before Christine could explain that the Angel of Music would object to a date. But then the door shut, so Christine began to change into a very pretty white night gown.

Erik approached the mirror slowly. That walk to Christine's dressing room took forever in his mind. He looked through the mirror at his obsession as she was finishing changing. She was so beautiful to him. Those intelligent and hopeful eyes, her classical features, those lips which smiled so sweetly or frowned so sadly... He was a man in love. He was also very affected by Mercutio's gift. Erik took a breath in, and it felt so good. His head swam with all sorts of thoughts and nothing at all. His feet felt as if though he were defying gravity, and floating just a centimeter from the earth.

Christine picked up the rose Erik had sent to her, and smiled. "An angel that sends me roses... What a strange angel. Strange and wonderful angel," Christine said. She giggled and smelled the rose.

Erik smiled from ear to ear at Christine's adorable behavior, and then began to sing with all of his heart.

Christine rose quickly and declared the Angel's greeting happily. "Oh, Angel of Music! Enter master!"

"Flattering child, look at your mirror. I am there inside."

Christine approached her mirror, and the room seemed to actually lengthen. The mirror disappeared to some unknown corner of the earth, and there stood a man in swirling mist. His shoulders were immense under the dark dress coat he wore. Everything about him spelled out that he was the perfect gentleman, and one with a marvelous physique, though one thing was strange. He wore a white half mask which contrasted sharply with his dark skin and white smile, for he did smile.

Christine took Erik's hand and followed him blindly down into the Opera Populaire's depths. She had been as far as the third cellar some time ago, but became frightened and hurried back to ballet practice. This time, she had a guide and guardian leading her down into the unknown. Christine felt safe and completely captivated by her mysterious visitor.

Erik came to Cesar, a gorgeous horse he stole from the opera stables, and lifted Christine to his saddle so that she might ride. He really felt like riding as well, but his limbs wouldn't hear of doing that. He was surprised he could lift Christine so easily in his state of mind.

Erik eventually came to help Christine down, loving the physical contact she allowed him. His strong hands around her slender waist felt more right to Erik than anything ever had in his entire lifetime. He took her hand gently after he stepped into the small boat. Christine daintily got in and sat down. The two began to sing in a divine frenzy as Erik rowed steadily towards his home.

Nearing the shore, and the end of their song, Erik began yelling for Christine to sing, to sing for him. And she sang, and the glory of her with her hair falling over her shoulders was almost too much for Erik to stand. They both sounded like they were arriving at a climax at the very end of the song, and could only stare at each other wordlessly.

Erik slowly stepped out of the boat and dashingly removed his long cloak, throwing it to the ground. Normally Erik was extremely tidy, but the three things Mercutio described were happening: he was elevated, he was floating, and, yes, he was happy.

"There are so many things I would love to say to you, but everything will come in due time. My name is Erik."

"Oh, you're the Voice!"

"...yes. Christine, I'm so sorry for deceiving you! It was the only way one such as I could be around you."

"You lied to me, but I'm not mad. I was actually... I wanted you to be a real man. I don't need the stories of my father to give me happiness anymore... I'm an adult." Christine blushed at admitting her secret to her seemingly handsome admirer and sad over her father all at once.

Erik wasn't sure what to make of Christine's expressions, but took a step forward, grasping her hand. The two spent hours gloriously singing and playing the piano. Eventually Christine mentioned that it was late, and asked if she were going to be returned to her room.

Erik began to laugh for some reason. His smile was bright and charming, his teeth as white as the pristine poet's shirt he wore beneath his vest and jacket. He smoothed his jet black hair back and leaned back a little, careful not to hit any keys with his elbows. "You may return if you wish it, Christine, but I will tell you I have a room prepared especially for your use, and I'll have a nice meal waiting for us."

Erik's kindness gave Christine confidence, so she accepted his invitation. Erik showed her to a lavishly decorated room, and left her alone, explaining that it was her room, not his.

Christine looked around in awe, finding an extravagant closet full of clothing her size, makeup in the shades she used, and everything else a young woman could possibly want. Christine began to make herself absolutely gorgeous for Erik.

Erik was a hungry phantom. Mercutio didn't mention this side effect. He felt a hunger stronger than any other hunger he had ever felt, so began to prepare a simple but exquisite meal for two... hundred. Well, maybe just for four, but it was still too much. Erik prepared the table, but Christine had still not emerged from her room. He covered the food and walked to his piano, where he began to write surprisingly quickly, his composer's block running away as his mind swam headily with beauty.

It was in this state, slightly disheveled, vest thrown to the side, top of his poet's shirt undone, that Christine found Erik. She walked towards Erik, taking in his broad shoulders, sculpted neck, tanned skin and handsome face. Well, the part she could see was handsome. The shining white mask would have to go.

Erik would have gasped if he did not feel so laid back at the moment. Christine had taken time to dress up for him. His heart sang within him an ode to her beauty and care but his lips could only smile softly. Christine began to touch his uncovered cheek, and Erik nearly purred at the contact. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, only giving Christine more of a reason to remove his mask. And she did. And she saw.

And Erik kept on smiling. He was so in the clouds that he did not care that his mask was gone. Christine's hand stopped and fell away from his cheek, and Erik slowly turned away, but no anger erupted from within.

"I am not a handsome man, Christine. My... deformity... has caused me to live alone and in darkness."

Christine covered her mouth, but her horror subsided as she remembered the man that he was, not the face which was ugly on the surface.

Erik never became angry that day, and so Christine never fled. Fear can turn to love, and she would learn to see the man, not the monster. Her small hands rested on his wide shoulders, and her fingertips extended the white mask to him.

Erik slowly took it and immediately felt more comfortable as he replaced the mask. Without Mercutio's magical plant, he would have surely lost his temper at Christine's invasion of privacy. Erik turned around and stood, kissing Christine's hand gingerly.

"Let us to dinner?"

"Yes, Erik, I'd love that."

"That is a bit much, isn't?"

"Well, better to have too much than too little." Erik began to laugh, and Christine joined him. She wasn't sure how Erik could act so happy with such a dismal life sentence, but she wanted to know more.


End file.
